


Words That Want Saying

by Deannie



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:36:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6537169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strange noises in the stable usually worried Vin, parked as he was in his wagon right alongside it, but he had become so accustomed to this one that he no longer heard it, or at least didn’t grab his gun when he did. Though he did smile when he heard the whispered "good night" as the stable grew quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words That Want Saying

**Author's Note:**

  * For [farad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/gifts).



> An answer to Fara's Mag7DayBook prompt: "Vin, any, strange noises in the stable usually worried him, but he had become so accustomed to this one that he no longer heard it, though he did smile when he heard the whispered "good night" when the stable grew quiet."

Vin laid back in his wagon, trying to think of nothing as night curled around the town again. The saloon was starting to quiet down, and he knew all the good little drunkards and gamblers would be headed home soon. He listened to them go, picking voices out of the crowd of them and failing to hear anything to worry him. _Always a damn peacekeeper,_ he thought to himself. _Larabee’s sure as hell rubbed off._

The night grew silent, long, dark. His mind started building a poem around that before he realized somebody’d done something like it already. He’d heard Josiah reading it once. Or Ezra. Was certainly a night for poetry, though.

He knew he’d spent hours staring at the canvas above him when he heard the sounds coming from the stable. So, nearing false dawn, then. Because that was when the visit always happened.

Strange noises in the stable usually worried Vin, parked as he was in his wagon right alongside it, but he had become so accustomed to this one that he no longer heard it, or at least didn’t grab his gun when he did. Though he did smile when he heard the whispered "good night" as the stable grew quiet.

It’d happened every night since the shoot out. Like he couldn’t leave the damn horse to spend a night on its own. Thing was spoiled as all hell, and these nightly visits were just adding to it. Not that the visitor would ever admit to the coddling. Maybe it was because he wanted to coddle the damn thing’s owner instead, but couldn’t.

The thought made Vin’s heart lurch a little and he called himself to order, pulling his legs up gentle and sliding to the back of the wagon. His worry wouldn’t do a damn thing—waiting was what was called for, and he was good at that. A tall shadow approached, and Vin dropped down to the ground lightly. Chris wasn’t in any way surprised.

“Morning, Cowboy,” Vin greeted him, voice low and befitting the time of day. They walked toward the jail together—the only place to go that wasn’t above the livery and bathed in tension. “How’re things in there?”

Chris pretended Vin was talking about the stables, and that was fine. The tracker wasn’t really sure he wanted to know how things were going upstairs.

“Leg’s looking better, but that flank is starting to weep some. Afraid we’re going to have to get someone to open it up and drain it.” His voice was tired and tortured. Half of what was left of his soul was tied up in this now. Damn painful to have the strings of it tugged on so hard.

Vin nodded, keeping his voice even and calm because Chris needed it. “Byron Mattock is a fair horse healer,” he offered. “I’ll see if he can come take a look.” He snorted. “Lord, can’t let anything happen to that damn horse, or he’ll kill you.”

Chris just tightened up and went silent, like he’d take the killing if the man’d just wake the hell up. Three days was a damn long time to stay abed—even for him.

The jail had a light on, as always. Pertwee and his men were still in there waiting on the judge, and the whole town was waiting to see if the murder of a lawman would be added to the bandits’ list of crimes. Vin and Chris walked in and Ezra looked up from where he’d been playing some crazy one-man game. Or maybe he was reading the cards, trying to divine their future.

“How’s Lady?” Ezra asked, trying to sound like it didn’t really matter. Like it was absent concern. Vin could see he didn’t really want to know how Buck was doing or whether Nathan had made any assurances as to him surviving the week. Too damn painful.

Chris looked over the men in the cells, his eyes resting on Jonah Pertwee, the man who’d shot Buck’s horse right out from under him before shooting Buck himself in the head and sending the rest of them to this waiting hell. Pertwee snored, sleeping the sleep of the ruthless.

“Made it through the night,” Chris answered. More than just the question asked. He shook himself and focused on Ezra. “Get some sleep. I’ll keep watch here.”

Ezra locked eyes with Vin and Vin nodded. He’d make sure Chris didn’t kill anybody today. Was getting to be more and more of a chore as the days wore on, though. 

The gambler grabbed his hat and tipped a finger to his forehead, sliding out into the growing light, and Vin watched Chris carefully as the older man slid into the chair just emptied. His gun came out, cocked and loaded, but he set it on the desk next to him and just stared into the cell, like he could see the reason for Buck’s condition if he only looked hard enough.

Vin didn’t know if Chris knew how obvious he was with his affection for Buck. He liked to think Chris wouldn’t care if everyone knew, but hell, the man was secretive to a fault. Still, yearning that powerful was something no one could hide completely. He knew too well.

Better than Buck did, he sometimes thought. Wilmington was a lady’s man, sure, but Vin’d heard his stories about the whorehouse where he grew up and the two men who weren’t just handymen. He wasn’t ignorant of what a man might want to do with a man. Vin just thought it a shame Buck didn’t seem to realize that Chris might want those things. With him.

“You gonna behave?” he asked quietly, a powerful need burning through him all of a sudden. Wouldn’t make a difference, probably, but he had words that wanted saying. “If’n I go up and check on Buck, you ain’t gonna shoot anybody, are you?”

Chris turned burned out and terrified eyes to him. Scared of losing that one thing he had left to love. “Can’t promise,” he replied. Should have been a joke, but it wasn’t.

“Sure you can. Buck’d have your ass if you deprive him the pleasure of watching Pertwee hang.” He tried to put as much faith in the sentence as he could, praying God wouldn’t make him a liar. “So, I’m going. Don’t want to hear any gunplay while I’m up there.”

The man at the desk put his head in his hands and said nothing. Because there was nothing to say here, was there? But there was sure as hell something to say up at Nathan’s. 

Vin walked out into the gray and headed for the clinic, taking the stairs silently and sliding in the door to see their healer curled up on the cot in the corner. Buck was in the bed at the center of the room, silent as death but for the rise and fall of his chest. His left eye was blackened, the forehead above it swathed in a bandage that couldn’t hide the bruising that spread from the bullet wound. Damn thing had skated along his skull, but the trauma and the fall and the landing had done their damage. He looked like he’d already taken a few more steps toward Heaven.

_Time to call him back._

“Listen here,” Vin whispered, his mouth right up next to the man’s ear. He could feel the coldness of his skin, but firmed his resolve. Even if he _was_ talking to a dead man, didn’t make the words any less important. “He loves you, Buck. As much as he probably loves anyone in the world.” Buck didn’t so much a twitch. He really was dying, maybe. “Maybe you don’t feel that for him, and that’s fine, but damn it, don’t you leave him like this, you hear me?” He closed his eyes, a pain he never let himself feel welling up in him. “Don’t you leave him with us. Alone.”

Because Chris wouldn’t survive that, and Vin knew he wouldn’t survive losing Chris.

He bolted as Nathan started stirring, not ready to be caught. He should go back to the jail, keep watch over Chris… But he couldn’t. He couldn’t face that right now. Not now…

Instead he climbed into his wagon and laid back, trying to think of nothing as dawn curled around the town again.

*******  
the end  


  
  
  
  
  



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